


A Moment of Weakness

by cornelia_h



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Canon Related, Confessions, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:22:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25445356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornelia_h/pseuds/cornelia_h
Summary: As events with the Court of Owls finally came to an end (for now), Dick went to check on Bruce’s injuries.Based on Batman (2011) #11.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 8
Kudos: 115





	A Moment of Weakness

**Author's Note:**

> In case you haven’t read this comic arc, please do! It has one of the best Brudick dynamics from beginning to end.

When Dick found Bruce in the manor’s living room, the man was sitting in a wheelchair by the warmth of the fireplace, still on a call with Jim Gordon instead of doing what he should but never really did—resting. Dick huffed. Funny how everyone had been worried about him being the younger one, when Bruce was stubborn like a child.

Despite having his back towards Dick, Bruce almost immediately concluded the call.

“I snuck in before Alfred could tell me you don’t want company right now,” said Dick lightly, in lieu of a greeting. “Don’t worry, I’m just here to use the computer.”

Now that Dick had walked closer to finally see the man, Bruce looked possibly his worst in quite a while. His left arm was in a sling, right hand in a brace, and both legs in casts with the right one elevated on the leg rest. How did Alfred even manage to put on the lounge robe and sweatpants for him? Even his torso was wrapped with layers of gauze, tight enough to still show the muscular chest underneath.

Dick didn't know if he should hug Bruce for still being alive or yell at him for being a reckless lone wolf again. He finally decided against either, too bitter about having been excluded from most of the happenings, and too weary as his nerves finally relaxed upon seeing Bruce with his own eyes.

“No…” Bruce spoke up, “I’m glad to see you, Dick.”

Well, that was unexpected from Bruce. He usually hated people seeing his injuries, even when it was Alfred or Dick. Having almost died had probably softened him up a little bit, temporarily. That kind of extreme experience sometimes had the effect on Bruce.

Dick cracked his knuckles loudly: “Well…you shouldn’t be. I’ve planned on getting you back for that punch as soon as you were well. And honestly, you’re looking better than I expected.” Which was a huge relief, but of course Dick wouldn't tell him that. They had been way past those words.

“Dick, listen…I know it must have been hard, finding out you were meant to be a Talon, to be one of the Owls,” said Bruce, playing the better man as an olive branch.

 _No shit, Sherlock. It’s been even harder, finding out you were still hiding so many secrets from me._ Dick was used to taking punches, having been in their line of work for so long. He would not tolerate, however, a punch out of nowhere from Bruce, only to learn afterwards that it knocked out the very tooth embedded with the Owls’ special alloy, a ticking time bomb in Dick’s mouth that could eventually seize him as their puppet. It was insulting to the point of infuriating how Bruce had been so reticent in front of him about the Owls and their assassinates, as if Dick wasn’t his partner with years of shared experience to prove, as if Dick was still a child needing protection.

As if the knowledge that Dick had been destined to become a Talon would have changed anything between them, would have driven him away.

Dick licked the empty spot between his teeth—the hole had healed but the gum there was still raw. “Well thank you, B—”

“I’m not done,” Bruce stopped him with a raised hand—did he seriously just wiggle it out of the brace in front of Dick? “I know it might seem like I saved you from that destiny. But you could never have been one of them. Never. They might have seen something in you, back then. But so did I.” Once in a while, Bruce still liked to pull that mentor voice on him. It was endearing, for old time’s sake, but also a little annoying, since he only had a bit over a decade on Dick, and the difference only felt less significant every year. “And the truth is, I didn’t save you from some dark fate, those years ago. You saved me from one. And you still are saving me, every day.”

Now, _that_ was truly unexpected. For Bruce’s standard, it was probably as close to a real confession as Dick could ever get. Dick didn't know if he should wish to hear it more or less often, if it took the freaking Court of Owls to squeeze these words out of this difficult man.

Dick couldn’t pinpoint since when their relationship had morphed from one into another. There wasn’t a look, a touch, or a kiss so definitive to count as a threshold. Deep, wordless feelings had seeped through, unnoticed, like how the alloy had been spreading quietly within Dick’s body. But for this instance, he and Bruce had allowed themselves to be slowly affected—transformed—until Alfred and Tim and even Damian accepted the new status quo.

“Dammit, Bruce,” Dick sighed, rubbing Bruce’s shoulder with one hand, “Now I can’t hit you. I’ll just do it some other time.” The silk was soft against his palm and slid smoothly back and forth against Bruce’s skin. “It’s fine, though,” he continued, “I’ll just sneak up and surprise you.” Dick could surprise Bruce, and he had, in more ways than one.

“You’ll try,” Bruce drawled. He curled his lips upward in an angle that was almost sensual, turning to look up at Dick from under long eyelashes like a lazy cat, as irresistibly charming and relaxed as he was at those high society functions. Dick knew these tricks too well to miss the flash of glint from the sliver of sharp blue still visible under those heavy lids. He was in a better mood now, however, so he could play along if this was what Bruce wanted.

“What would you like me to try?” asked Dick in a tone just a touch lower than his usual. Bruce didn't respond, only raised an eyebrow. A silent challenge.

“Considering your current state, I don’t really see that many options,” both of Dick’s hands were on Bruce’s shoulders now, massaging the tense muscles slowly but deeply. He chuckled when Bruce huffed in irritation at his words.

Dick maneuvered the wheelchair next to the armrest of the couch before putting the brace back on Bruce’s hand. “Don’t move. I miss it when you showed so much self-restraint.” Until Dick finally turned eighteen, for that matter. God, thinking back on the intense gazes and unspoken tensions still made him hard.

Bruce continued to look at him silently and inquisitively, waiting for his next move. Dick’s plan was simple, actually. He quickly lowered the waistband of Bruce’s sweatpants and pulled out his cock—already half-hard—before settling himself on the couch, one hand holding onto the back of the wheelchair, his stomach pressed against the armrest, and his upper body hovering right above Bruce’s lap.

“Dick—” Bruce let out a stifled groan as Dick lowered his head and guided the cock into his mouth with one hand. He felt it harden and twitch against his tongue as he swallowed its full length. He lifted up his head slowly until he reached the crown, drawing small circles at the frenulum with the tip of his tongue. Bruce’s body was shaking, rocking slightly back and forth as if he wanted to grab Dick’s hair or anything else but couldn’t. Dick stopped and gave his shaft a gentle squeeze: “Hold still.”

Dick went back to lick the head, tasting the savory precum there before going deep again, pushing until Bruce’s hardness was throbbing against his throat. He could hear Bruce’s breathing grow increasingly heavy as he gradually sped up the movement, alternating between swallowing Bruce whole and focusing on the crown. With half of his body still dangling off the couch and only one arm to support himself, Dick thanked all his muscles for allowing him to keep up in this position.

When Bruce finally tensed up and released in his mouth, Dick took all of his come in one gulp. He licked clean every corner of Bruce’s cock and hummed in pride as Bruce flinched reflexively and moaned quietly through the nose, too sensitive in the aftershock. The man had his weakness; only no one else would get to see it.

“I could’ve sat on you,” said Dick while licking his lips, pushing himself up from the couch, “but I don’t want to break your wheelchair.”

Bruce actually smiled at that. His chest was still heaving a little bit. His blue eyes now appeared a shade darker with his pupils dilated, quietly reflecting the jumping, crackling fire.

Ignoring his own hard-on, Dick stood up to tuck Bruce’s cock back into his boxer and gave it a loving pat before tugging the sweatpants’ waistband back up. “I’ll be seeing you, Bruce,” he walked towards the door. “Remember you still owe me a punch. And now a good shag, too.”

“Dick, wait.”

Dick stopped, hand hovering above the doorknob.

“Stay,” said Bruce. He was asking, but he would never make it into a question, to allow different answers.

“I was just going upstairs. It’s late, you know,” Dick said with a smile, his feet already taking him back to Bruce.

“Just…stay,” Bruce repeated.

“Well, I guess it makes sense to have someone take you back to your room,” Dick put his hands on the back of the wheelchair, “and maybe help you around the bathroom, too.”

Bruce leaned back and turned his head, so his cheek was pressed against Dick’s hand. “I’ve missed you,” he admitted, so softly it was almost just a ghost of breath on Dick’s skin. He lowered his eyelashes and closed his eyes, looking incongruously fragile from Dick’s angle, and for a moment Dick wanted nothing but to protect him, the way a towering caped man used to shelter a small boy.

It was perhaps the greatest irony that Dick had been chosen as a Talon to take Bruce’s life, as if fate was mocking them, punishing them both for their thoughts, their actions, and their feelings. But Bruce had saved Dick from a dark fate once again, just as Dick had been trying to keep Bruce from getting engulfed in darkness all these years. They had never spoken of love, nor did Dick feel they needed to. They were just two people saving each other, every day.

Dick bent down and kissed Bruce’s hair. “I’ve missed you, too,” he murmured, turning the wheelchair around and pushing it forward. “Let’s head upstairs.”


End file.
